Worst Morning Ever
by tFantasyFan
Summary: But hey: that was just Raph's opinion, and he was prone to a little exaggeration once in a while. Rocket launchers and out-of-body experiences abound.
1. In Which Raph Has the Worst Morning Ever

_Thank you for joining me. I felt particularly angry today. It's sugar withdrawal. And the fact that the login for the site has been particularly DEAD lately. So I need something that makes me feel like I'm generally useful and ranting all in one. Because I hate Writer's Block, because it makes me hate writing, and has also begun turning me against Stitches (which I REFUSE to give up on, damn it). Look at this, I'm ranting. AKA rambling. Someone get me an Uzi, __**please**__._

_Disclaimer: Oh for the love of God, I don't own them!_

* * *

Mornings didn't typically pan out so badly.

Entire fucking _decades _weren't known to go so badly.

In fact, the creation of the earth, the evolution of the dinosaurs, and the giant explosion that had driven them to extinction probably hadn't gone so badly.

For the purpose of keeping his rant as long as possible, he threw in the fact that as far as he'd been able to tell, the Great Depression and the attack on _Pearl Harbor _had gone a little more smoothly than his current morning.

But hey: that was just Raph's opinion, and he was prone to a little exaggeration once in a while. Surely it had nothing to do with the fact that a routine group run through the sewer had turned into yet another battle to the death above a conveniently placed catwalk and whirlpool combination.

Taking stock of that, he decided that he was really beginning to hate sewers.

Not that a mere battle to the death could have been enough to create what he was beginning to think of as the Worst Morning Ever™.

No, life hated him far too much for that. Instead of a run-of-the-mill battle against the Foot that would be emerged from with everybody generally whole and victorious, he was handed half-asleep-Michelangelo, caffeine-withdrawal-Donatello and previously-injured-Leonardo-who-was-too-stupid-to-understand-the-meaning-of-taking-it-easy-and-had-instead-dragged-his-brothers-through-the-sewers-in-the-early-hours-of-the-morning. Idiot.

It was making it a bit difficult to prevail this time around. He decided that if they somehow managed to survive this one, it would be forever known as Surprise Battle of Half-Assed Proportions. Landing a solid kick to the chest of a black-clad enemy ninja, he hastily tacked on a decision to engrave the details of the event on a plaque and hang it above the very catwalk that it had occurred on.

Then he could forever remind Leo of the day he'd whipped out massive levels of epic ass-kicking skills in order to save his brothers' pathetic early morning tails.

Raphael took advantage of his temporarily free moment to check in on his 'incapacitated' siblings. On the edges of his vision, Mikey yawned; avoiding a potentially fatal blow from an opponent's butterfly sword and knocking said ninja out of the game with a quick strike to the back of the head. Leo seemed to be holding his own as well as usual, showing off his never-ending reservoir of ninjitsu mastery by single-handedly disarming two opponents at once. Never let it be said that slings or dislocated shoulders interrupted his mojo. Even Donnie appeared to be making some headway, looking slightly more energized than he had been earlier.

Good. No one he had to jump in and rescue, then.

Just as he was mentally expressing his thanks to the air in general, however, one of the many faceless bastards he'd put down earlier jumped back to their feet and pulled out a rocket launcher. This event was both too much and too convenient. Raphael glared at the disoriented ninja, feeling the almighty power of his righteous fury beginning to rise to the surface.

No way. There was just no way.

Rocket launchers, by and large, were capable of being deadly in the hands of even the most inexperienced of wielders. In the hands of a trained _assassin_, the potential skyrocketed enormously. The difference between your average Joe and your average Foot ninja? Foot ninja could _aim. _Realistically, he figured wryly, he should have expected something like this to happen.

Whether they were fighting the Foot or the Purple Dragons, explosives _always _wound up in the mix. It was ridiculous. No, wait: it was a _rocket launcher_.

It was always a rocket launcher.

It was _always_. A. Fucking. Rocket. Launcher.

"OH, come on! Where the FUCK did you get THAT?" Raph exploded, never one to stay in his own head for long. Why should this situation be different?

There was a momentary pause in the chaos of the moment, during which his brothers glanced at him in fear for his sanity. His returned glare told them in no uncertain terms to keep their mouths shut, because now was _not _the time. The object of his current ire responded to his admittedly not-so-subtle remark by very deliberately pulling his arm back and firing in Leonardo's general direction.

Raph's mind was made up. Unless he was the one using them, he hated any and all explosives. With a ridiculously loud round of swearing and the distinct determination to rub this in his brother's face for the rest of their natural lives (and maybe the majority of their afterlives: it depended on exactly how peaceful that would turn out to be), Raphael made an impressive hundred-yard dash and forcefully shoved his brother out of harm's way. Bits of tunnel began raining down around them soon afterward.

But even the now rather collapsed state of the sewers wasn't enough to put the morning on his infamous 'Worst Ever' list. Watching a massive chunk of stone hit the deadly whirlpool below and swirl out of sight, he reminded himself that they'd fought through larger explosions and come out relatively unharmed. And the fact that the enemy had high-tailed it at the first sign of long-range weaponry was something of a lucky break.

But what would his life be without a higher power kicking him in the balls? Used to the sudden appearance of such events, he kept a wary eye open as he spun to observe his surroundings.

The next few moments were a strange combination of both silence and sensation.

He felt rather than heard the ground shifting beneath his feet. Just as he observed with some wordless detachment the way his brothers' faces morphed from exhausted relief to wide-eyed shock. Mike was probably saying his name, judging by the way his lips moved. Leo wasn't saying anything, opting instead to take a hurried step forward, good arm outstretched.

When Raph saw Donnie's mouth form something along the lines of _'Oh, shit,' _he figured he was in trouble. Leo dropped his sword and it hit the ground with a sharp clang, bringing sound back into the world in time for Raph to hear a loud cracking sound as the ground gave way beneath him. He glanced down at his feet in some surprise, then back up. It was definitely a strange occurrence.

He didn't realize he was actually falling until he hit the water. The sharp images of his brothers vanished abruptly and were obscured by darkness.

Things had now gone officially bad enough to be called the Worst Morning Ever™_._

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

**Meanwhile, in the offices located somewhere within the Foot Skyscraper:**

It was a typical morning in the profession of evil as Oroku Saki sat idly in one of his many large and empty ceremonial chambers. The room somehow shone with an eerie red light in spite of the fact that he'd had the light bulbs replaced three times since it was added. After some time, he'd decided to just accept that evil buildings possessed minds of their own and would glow as they wished.

At least it matched the décor.

It was on this particular morning and in this particular room that he had made the decision to thoroughly clean his villainous armor. Having fulfilled his usual morning obligation to send legions upon legions of Foot soldiers into the city to ambush and destroy his most hated enemies while he posed dramatically in the background, he saw no reason not to ensure that his pointy accessories didn't rust in the meantime.

Not that he'd really expected his soldiers to emerge victorious after several years of abject failure. The Shredder was far from stupid. When they'd returned earlier, he hadn't been surprised to learn of their retreat. But if he didn't send them out to destroy the turtles, what could he be expected to do with thousands of obedient ninja at his disposal? He'd occasionally considered the option of Ninja Pizza or Ninja Dry-cleaning, but in the end they were too quick to react violently to their surroundings.

Besides, they seemed to constantly retain hope of success in hunting the Turtles in 'the near future.' Optimistic fools. Always telling him exactly how close they'd come and how they planned to succeed. That was precisely why he'd ordered Karai back to Japan. Going on about avenging _his _honor, and _her _honor, destroying Leonardo because he didn't truly _understand _honor and destroying Raphael because of his disrespect towards her _word _of honor. He was surprised she hadn't formed a vendetta against pigeons for dishonoring the building by defecating on it.

If he hadn't sent her back to Japan, he probably would have had her killed. Of course, then her spirit would find a way to linger and discuss how dishonorable such a course of action was. Japan was simply easier to accomplish.

As he scowled at a section of armor that was decidedly lackluster and weighed the benefits of continuing to keep his 'daughter' alive, the Shredder was assaulted by the familiar sensation of being watched. Ever the warrior master, he sprang to his feet defensively.

"What the HELL is goin' on?" Raising his polished gauntlet and turning to battle the body attached to the voice, one can imagine his surprise when he found himself facing a single agitated turtle. Given the fact that there had been no explosions or security alerts, he deduced it was safe to assume that it had come alone. Why it had infiltrated his headquarters was perhaps another matter entirely.

But did that really matter in the long run, as long as it was here _now_? Never one to waste an opportunity, the Shredder smirked and attacked.

Raphael growled wordlessly, overcoming mass amounts of confusion in time to leap out of the way of Saki's strike. Right. So he was in Foot tower. With the Shredder. And he obviously hadn't been expected, which negated the theory stating that he'd been nabbed by a lingering ninja. His enemy attacked again, and as he barely evaded it he took note of the fact that his sai were missing.

Well that was just fan-_fucking-_tastic, wasn't it? Alone and unarmed against his family's greatest foe with no idea how he'd gotten there or what had happened to his brothers. If it had been Worst Morning Ever™ _before, _what the hell was he supposed to call it _now_?

This must have been the entrance of that ever-familiar kick to the balls he'd been expecting earlier. Life would have just been off-putting if he hadn't gotten it eventually. Just another something to take in stride.

It was as he ran out of room to maneuver in and was cornered by the Shredder that he discovered exactly how hard the proverbial kick had been. Saki, of course, wasted no time in acting, striking with the obvious intention of impaling his foe in the deadliest and most painful manner possible. Raphael closed his eyes, bracing for impact and involuntarily wincing as he heard a distant crunching noise.

After a few moments, he seemed to notice that a) he was in no pain and b) he wasn't feeling the effects of any blood loss. Confused, frustrated and feeling flat-out _fucked _by the universe in general, he opened his eyes and looked down, as the Shredder seemed to notice his lack of a bloody demise and did the same.

At which point they both noticed that the villain's arm had passed harmlessly through his torso and the gauntlet was embedded firmly in the wall.

Oroku Saki blinked, brow furrowed. The turtle blinked in turn, shock morphing into rage soon thereafter.

"_Great! _GREAT! I'M FUCKING _DEAD _NOW?"

And _that, _he decided,was the straw that broke the camel's back. Fully gripped by the sheer unfairness of the universe in general, he re-titled the experience accordingly.

_Worst. Fucking. Morning. __**Ever**__. _(™)

* * *

_Okay, consider this particular bit ended. And profane. Consider it remarkably ended and profane, but I'm not going to be regretting that anytime soon. So don't hold your breath for any apologies, alright? *exits brusquely*_

_*shuffles back into view begrudgingly* Hope you're enjoying it._

_And, now that I'm less agitated than when I initially typed this up: SO much thanks to Reggie (Princess Tyler Briefs) for being the guinea-pig reader on this. ^-^ I'm much obliged._


	2. In Which God Laughs His Ass Off

_It's part the second, everybody, and we're heading in strong. Put on your crash helmets, 'cause here it comes. After naming my determination to get to a university in Utah, my parents whipped out the 'we don't have the money so you'll have to wait an entire year to go.' Oh, and I'm titling chapters from here on out. Makes it fun._

_Disclaimer: Dear Lord. I haven't owned them all this time? Wait. NONE of us owns them? It CAN'T BE. (Insert massive 'duh' face here)_

* * *

_**CHAPTER TWO: IN WHICH GOD LAUGHS HIS ASS OFF.**_

_Whoosh._

"Stop doin' that!"

_Whoosh._

"What the HELL is your problem? You never heard a' respect for the dead?"

"Be silent!" _Whoosh. _"I am the Shredder!" _Whoosh. _"These are my chambers, and I'll do as I wish! I won't rest until you've perished like the worthless vermin that you are!" _Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh._

"I already _am _fucking perished, genius! What, the fumes from your polish gettin' to your head or somethin'?" At this, Oroku Saki paused for a moment, seemingly considering the statement. Raphael glared at him for all he was worth in the meantime, then:

_Whoosh. _The Shredder made yet another attempt to slice him open with a mysteriously obtained katana. Or, it could be said, the Shredder made yet another _failed _attempt to slice him open with a mysteriously obtained katana.

Spiteful evil bastard. The turtle growled wordlessly in his stupid evil face.

One second. He just needed one _fucking _second of being solid again in order to snap the man's neck like the pathetic twig that it was. Wouldn't have done much for the alien operating the body suit, but it would get his message across. In lieu of having enough physical presence to do so, he settled for fuming.

What the hell kind of two-bit, bullshit, rip-off afterlife was _this _supposed to be, anyway? Where was his fucking long tunnel? Where were the stupid puffy clouds and aerial views of his family? Where was this so-called God everyone was always going on about? What happened to the bright light and the floating or the fire and brimstone spiel? Even getting hurled into the darkest pits of hell had a little _finality _to it, damn it: where was his final fucking peaceful _rest _and eternity?

Eighteen years of living in rank pest-infested sewers, hiding in the shadows and getting attacked by the little old ladies he _took the time _out of his schedule to rescue, and this was the thanks he'd gotten? _This _was the karma he'd built up? Raphael hadn't been a model citizen or anything, but he'd thought he was entitled to at least a half-assed attempt at an afterlife.

But no. Apparently this God guy, if he was even hanging around, had a fucking sadistic sense of humor. Because instead of an eternity spent floating around in hell or getting reincarnated, he got to spend twenty unbelievably long minutes watching the Shredder repeatedly attempt to disembowel him with various pointy weaponry.

"Fight me on even grounds, you cowardly freak!" _Whoosh._

Gee, what a treat.

Raphael decided that there was no God. In which case, it was time to take matters into his own hands.

"You come near me with that sword one more time and I swear I'll shove it up your narrow pointy ASS!" He growled, jabbing a broad finger in the villain's general direction. Oroku Saki scoffed, coming to a brief rest and determining that maybe, just _maybe, _weapons weren't going to be effective in this situation.

"Impossible under even the best of circumstances, foolish Turtle. And I daresay these circumstances certainly aren't ideal," he sneered, falling back onto his usual standby: taunt, humiliate and manipulate the enemy through snide insults and subtle hand gestures. At least until he could figure out how to successfully murder this disrespectful infidel. Luckily, that tactic seemed particularly useful when employed on this specimen.

Bipolar son of a bitch. Hysterically slicing at him one minute, calm and collected the next. Raph choked on pure concentrated outrage for a few moments, hating the tangy yet remarkably bitter taste that it left in his mouth. He'd always found that fury had a much more enjoyable taste, so he made the decision to switch brands.

"No _shit _they ain't ideal! I got killed! KILLED! As in I DIED, as in I'm DEAD! Is this gettin' through that thick-shelled peanut you call a brain? Ya want me to illustrate a fucking picture book you can thumb through?"

"Surely you can loan me one of the many in your possession." It was a calm, quiet statement, full of the usual malice and hatred as the Shredder casually took a seat on one of his many straight-backed chairs. When the hell had those gotten into the room?

"Don't start this shit with me," the turtle stated dangerously, leaning forward and making desperate efforts to poke him in the chest. "YOU don't get to throw around insults today, asswipe! YOU ain't the one that's dead! In fact, you shouldn't get to talk to me at all 'cause this is YOUR fault!"

"_My_ fault? Oh, believe me, turtle, if I'd been the one to kill you, it certainly would have been much more painful than whatever fate you met."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, you're an honor-less, cowardly evil bastard who don't have the balls to fight your own battles unless we're already half dead. Instead, you send out a million and a half ninjas to attack us on OUR turf, one of which gets to conveniently carry around a fucking rocket launcher!"

"A _rocket launcher_?" The villain asked, cocking an eyebrow in malicious glee.

"Yeah, Tin Can, a _rocket launcher._"

"Where on earth did they get _that_, I wonder."

"Oh, don't even TRY playin' innocent with me. They always got a rocket launcher on 'em. _Always. _And I'm sick of it!"

"I've never seen any such weapons on my soldiers."

"Yeah, and ninjas NEVER learn to hide anythin' while they're trainin'."

"Where would they possibly be able to hide something as sizeable as a rocket launcher?"

"I DON'T FUCKING KNOW! _I _sure as hell didn't learn how to hide one! 'Course, considerin' how many weapons YOU'RE pullin' outta your ass, I don't need to ask who taught the bastards!" Raphael shouted explosively, throwing his hands in the air in his fury. It was at this point that several shuriken were thrown through his forehead and he whirled around, practically scorching the ground he stood on. "ENOUGH with the weapons! It didn't work before, it won't work now!"

"Oh, I know it won't work. But it makes for excellent target practice," Saki replied smugly. Raphael's subsequent attempt to tackle him ended in a pitiful display of transparency as he phased through the back of the chair.

"Ya stupid- damn- villainous- spiteful- annoyin'- BASTARD!" He snarled between attempts to punch the villain in the face.

Which really just served to drive home the biggest issue at hand.

He was dead. Kicked the bucket, pushing up daisies, passed away, moved on, deceased, lifeless. He'd become 'the late Raphael Hamato.' Now he belonged in the ranks of the dearly departed. But instead of getting into the moving on process, Raphael wasn't even allowed to wallow in the angst and self-pity that the situation would normally allow. No, he got stuck with villainous bastard Number One, whose ultimate goal was to see him suffer. Seeing that his violent actions were getting him nowhere, the turtle pulled away from the Shredder with a huff.

If he found out that his family put 'Rest In Peace' on his headstone, he was going to haunt them until they died of fucking heart attacks and then he was going to kick their spirits' asses collectively. (Well, except for Master Splinter. Nobody kicked Master Splinter's spirit's ass. And it wouldn't be a good idea to go after April, either. Since when had she done anything wrong?) His family should have known him well enough to know that he thought 'Rest In Peace' was a load of bullshit.

And if it turned out that one of his brothers (namely Leo) had tried to dive in after him and ended up dead, too, he was handing out a double smack-down. Like he'd pushed his dumbass brother out of the way just to get them both killed anyway. Talk about a show of gratitude.

_Gee, Raph, thanks for saving me to begin with, but I think I'll just hurl myself into the depths of the unknown sewers like I've got a chance of recovering your lifeless body and resurrecting you. _Oh, and it wouldn't be Leo without a little guilt. For the hell of it, Raphael threw in something extra to satisfy his inner Michelangelo. _Oh, woe is me; this is entirely my fault because I'm a failure as a leader and as a brother and blah-blah-blah _honor_ blah _duty_ blah-blah _responsibility_…_

_Shit. _It came to mind that everyone was probably in full-blown sob story, self-blaming, pity-party mode by now, too. He'd have to find a way to beat THAT out of them later on, while he was at it. Because as much as Raph liked blaming his problems on somebody else's idiocy, he probably could have moved out of the way _before_ the sewer gave out. Of course, he reminded himself sourly, if Leo hadn't insisted on taking that run in the first place, they wouldn't have had to deal with mysterious rocket launcher wielding soldiers.

Just thinking about it made him want to slam his head into something. Not that it would actually hit anything. Being dead was the most unfair thing his fucked-sideways life had thrown at him so far. What was the point in hanging around if he couldn't HIT anything?

While the turtle spiraled into angst and became wrapped up in his own torrid thoughts, Oroku Saki became bored. He'd exhausted his weapons supply and now he couldn't even keep an irritated tirade going. There was no way to torture it for information on the whereabouts of its family; in fact, there was no way to torture it at all. It just sort of stood there, invulnerable to physical harm and too introverted to hurl a few decent comebacks in his direction. Was it just going to stand around in his chambers forever?

The thought was…unappealing, to say the least.

"Are you quite finished 'haunting' me?" He asked, exasperated and idly polishing the edges of his gauntlet blades once more.

"Finished- I don't know what the hell I'm doin' here in the first place! Why would I waste my afterlife hovering around your ugly mug when I could be scarin' people shitless or makin' myself useful?"

"Then why are you _here_? Surely this was some desperate attempt to torment me until the end of my days by driving me mad with guilt. Pathetic emotions. It's just the kind of underhanded tactic your kind would employ."

"You wanna talk underhanded, pal? Talk to the guy who whipped out the rocket launcher!"

"Oh, get over it already. Isn't there some kind of godforsaken purifying light you should be ascending into?" Raphael growled once more, clenching his hands into fists.

"Yeah, it's right up your ass and around the corner! Just thought I'd hang around in your fucked up headquarters and see how your daily life's goin'! Maybe I'll drop in on Stockman, too; see if I can pick up any hints for Christmas gifts!"

"By all means, proceed to do so! I've had enough of this foolish nonsense!"

"Fine! I'm outta here! Shoulda left the second I saw your ugly ass in here," the turtle grumbled irritably. "Tossin' weapons at me like some kinda carnival game. Bastard."

He very purposefully strode through the door and into the hallway, wishing more than anything that he could have been mutated with five fingers. It would have made shooting Shredder the bird a lot more picturesque.

Ten minutes later, he had gotten himself completely lost in the maze-like skyscraper and had to resort to aimlessly wandering the various halls in search of…well, he didn't know what to search for. Which was really, truly _excellent. _Coming to a brief halt, he made a pathetic failed attempt to punch a nearby wall.

Raphael reconsidered his earlier decision.

There _was _a God: and he was laughing his ass off at that very moment.

* * *

_I have many things I could ramble on about in complaint, but it wouldn't fix them and it really wouldn't make me feel any better. And why bother setting up an image of someone who whines and never tries to fix her own problems?_

_Consider the chapter ended. And hopefully half as decent as the first one._


	3. In Which Raph Gets Existential Then Even

_I will get this chapter written and posted TODAY, damn it. This such anger means two things: One, I have not had my daily dose of coffee- and Two, it's time for more Worst Morning Ever. Since my coffee pot is (as ever) a worthless example of time-taking frivolity, I'll have to settle for an attempt to write something._

_Disclaimer: THUMP. That was my head. Hitting the kitchen table. Anything copyrighted in here? It's not mine. That, children, is a blanket disclaimer._

* * *

_**CHAPTER THREE: IN WHICH RAPH GETS EXISTENTIAL, THEN GETS EVEN.**_

This was peachy. This was really fucking peachy.

After all, Raphael's inner optimist piped up, what could _be_ more fun than walking in circles on the top floor of your most hated foe's deluxe evil office building? Just imagine the shenanigans that were possible! In his mind's eye, the turtle somehow found his way onto the roof and drop-kicked the thing off of the building. Turtle luck, however, ensured that even his imagined self had no luck- in an admittedly impressive imitation of a scene from 'The Matrix,' it bounced right back up.

Oh, hell. There could be no killing the thing. It was like some kind of eternally cheerful puppy, getting kicked around and thinking everything was just part of a fun new game. A proverbial Mary Sunshine.

Raph decided that he was not now nor would he ever be a dog person. They were durable, stubborn and loyal no matter what the hell kind of bullshit they were subjected to. Like he didn't already have enough of that hardheadedness on his own. _Wait…_Did that mean Master Splinter had been calling him a dog when he'd mentioned 'loyal to a fault?'

Somehow, he couldn't find it in his heart to be annoyed. 'Dog' was a bit light considering the fact that he'd gotten his brother dragged off by immortal statues. Hell, he could think of at least six other things he would have called himself- not that Master Splinter ever would have said them in this lifetime. No, his master had what he liked to call 'dignity.' With Raph being who he was, the attempts to instill such tact had ceased long ago.

The optimistic puppy made an effort to convince him that dogs were wonderful things and it was a compliment to be compared to them. Something about nobility and courage and- wait, now the fucking puppy was SPEAKING to him again? Worse yet, he was LISTENING. Damn thing couldn't just stay down when he put it down, could it? It was like his inner optimist WANTED to die.

Mostly this was proved by the fact that it was imaginary, invincible, and spoke in the voice of Michelangelo at his worst. For a moment, Raph amused himself with the image of stuffing puppies into a rocket launcher and testing just how agile his brother really was. At this point he realized that he had given up on retaining any semblance of his sanity and was going to spend all of eternity trapped in an evil skyscraper. There was no exit and that just PISSED him off.

Didn't the Shredder ever plan on LEAVING this floor? The turtle had looked the place over for anything resembling a way out: stairs, an elevator, a helicopter, even a snowmobile by the time his patience finally gave out on him. There hadn't even been a window. There had been three dojos, a weapons storage chamber, a room of spare uniforms, a janitor's closet and this, the never-ending hallway of elaborate tapestries that had no purpose whatsoever.

Just how many rooms did a villain NEED to overthrow the government or rid the world of mutated turtles or whatever it was they did with their time? Hadn't there been a time when they thrived operating out of large moist caverns and studio apartments? For the sake of all things logical and sensible, the Foot didn't need that extra twenty square feet of weapons storage. They could load themselves up with ninja tools and STILL manage to whip a rocket launcher out of nowhere.

NOWHERE. No, he never planned on letting that little gem go. In fact, if it took until the end of time Raph was determined to figure out how the hell they did it. It wasn't natural. Sure, he and his brothers were known to mysteriously procure grappling hooks and lengths of rope from time to time, but that was a different matter entirely.

The key differences? One- rope was easy to compress. Two- he knew how HE could manage it. Humans just didn't have that kind of ability. When no explanation appeared out of thin air, he sighed again. This was just boring. At least launching a systematic invasion had allowed opportunity for a good fight. Not that he'd be able to fight even if he could actually find anybody.

And there was his useless dead-ness, rearing its ugly head yet again. Of course, there were a million different inconsistencies rearing their ugly heads respectively along with it. For starters, he could walk through doors and walls- yet somehow he couldn't just phase through the floors. What the hell was up with that?

Mikey would have told him that he was over-thinking things. And then maybe he would have made a crack about there being a first time for everything. Which would, of course, be followed by a smack to the head and chasing his brother until 1) he caught him, 2) he got bored chasing him or 3) somebody else intervened. Raphael's mood wilted further and if it had been a solid presence the edges would have cracked and curled inwards. He stewed in his swirling vortex of angst yet again.

It was during his second round of stewing that he heard the explosion and the building shook ominously. Initially he just ignored it, having been involved in his share of –to put it properly- _weird, explosion-causing shit_. But it was also disturbing the current of his whirlpool, and that wasn't going to fly. Like they didn't have the rest of their fucking LIVES to blow things up around here.

Inconsiderate bastards. Didn't they have enough presence of mind to let the dead guy properly wallow for a while? Was it so hard to say 'hey, let's just take the grenades out back instead of bringing down our headquarters?' Apparently it was. Another explosion rocked the building and Raphael stood with a curse, fully intending to somehow find his way back to the Shredder's room. At least then he could be complaining loudly, annoying an enemy and staving off his inevitable loss of sanity for that much longer.

All of that silent contemplating was getting on his nerves anyway.

He'd made it halfway down the hall when one of the less elaborate tapestries was knocked to the ground, revealing a conveniently located hidden door. Righteous fury, it seemed, was a popular mood to bestow upon him that day. The majority of it was attributed to the fact that he'd given up the search for a way out _ten fucking feet _away from a door. Insanity, mindless stewing, silently swimming in angst, and he'd been ten feet from leaving this hell-hole in the dust?

Clearly fate just had it out for turtles in general. There was no way he'd built up enough bad karma or bad luck to bring around this kind of coincidence. Which really brought into question the wisdom of USING the hidden door. Chances were he'd end up face-to-face with some sort of vicious, starved creature of horrifying demonic proportions.

Like the thing could fucking _eat _him anyway? If the Shredder couldn't turn him into ribbon-like lumps of gore, chances were he couldn't be digested either. And for the first time, being disembodied had its benefits. With this revelation fresh in mind he stuck his head in the doorway to scope it out.

_Stairs. Cool._

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As a general rule, Hun tried to avoid having to do anything within the walls of the Saki Building. If he needed something delivered, he handed it off to a Purple Dragon. Whenever he caught word that the Shredder wanted to 'talk' to him, he set up a conference call. And of course if Stockman was involved, chances were his middle finger was going to get involved too. Mostly to rub in the fact that Stockman didn't _have _a middle finger.

Giant bag of egotistical wind. Felt good to knock him down a peg every once in a while. But that was really beside the point.

With so many things he hated in the one place, staying away from it was just common sense, wasn't it? So he found himself questioning exactly how he'd gotten roped into bringing a group of Purple Dragons in for some impromptu 'combat training'. Which was really just a light term for 'watching them get their sorry asses kicked by trained Foot Ninja'.

The Shredder liked to make sure he knew his gang wouldn't stand a fucking chance against those forces. Real classy guy like that. Not that he was dumb enough to use that kind of back-talk up close and personal.

Just like he wasn't dumb enough to bring his best fighters to this kind of thing. Let Shredder think he was all talk and no action. For a few hours he looked like an incompetent idiot who couldn't fight to save his life, but at the end of the day he still had a few surprises up his sleeves. Not that he HAD sleeves. He wasn't too stupid to see that he didn't have SLEEVES. No, Hun told himself smugly, watching one of his guys fail to dodge a rocket: he had a brain in that head of his.

During his most recent round of patting himself on the back, a lot of strange shit started to go down. It began with a draft, or what felt like a draft. Hun turned to glare at the door to the stairs, hoping to quell such a rebellious breeze through sheer hatred alone. It seemed to work, but that didn't really matter by the time he'd turned back around because he had to jump out of the way of several projectile explosives.

He didn't have much time for shouting, swearing or finding out what the hell was going on, but something told him he wouldn't have been able to find out even if they WEREN'T trying to blow him up. There was a lot of chaos and screaming, not to mention several cries of 'DIE, FOUL CREATURE!'

Yeah, those probably weren't the Purple Dragons.

Things really couldn't get much more fucked up than this, could they? Growling and launching himself into the mass of panicked bodies, he snagged a trigger-happy recruit by the collar.

"WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?"

"Don't ask me! Everyone just started goin' nuts!"

"FIX IT!" He roared, throwing the young man across the room. Unfortunately, the impact was instantly fatal. Someone in the crowd shouted 'Tony!', effectively informing him that the act would probably bring future retribution. So much for fixing things. Hun sighed in his frustration, about to make an attempt to break this up before it could progress any further- only to stop and look up in time to witness the beginning signs of a collapsing ceiling.

Had he just been thinking things COULDN'T get more fucked up?

The Saki Building collapsed in on itself with an impressive crash. Fleeing the scene with more than just a little smugness, Raphael snickered to himself.

Served those bastards right.

* * *

_Not the best, not the worst, and yet it's HERE. More than I can say for other stories in my employ. Thoughts, anyone?_


	4. In Which The Author Wraps This Up

_Um. No, I haven't any excuses. And other stories have gone longer without updates. So at least it's here now, ended fairly out-of-the-ass-ly. Yep. Cop-out ending because I didn't plot. Let that be a lesson to you, children._

_Disclaimer: *tumbleweed* Nuff said._

* * *

_**CHAPTER FOUR: IN WHICH THE AUTHOR WRAPS THIS UP.**_

So maybe inadvertently destroying Foot Headquarters hadn't been the best thing to do. Sure, it had been fun seeing Hun's face when everything came down on him- and since the place was reduced to a huge pile of rubble, finding an exit hadn't been too hard- but it had also left Raphael bored as fuck in one of many inexplicably dark alleys, waiting for the sun to go down.

Even as a damned _spirit_ he couldn't just go strolling down the sidewalks in the middle of the city; no, of course he couldn't, because his encounter in the nondescript group dojo from hell had informed him that he wasn't only visible to the Shredder. Like he was just going to ignore the fact that one in ten people were going to get a good look and start screaming their fucking heads off.

Yeah, so on occasion humans had the tendency to do that anyway, but when the police started getting a couple dozen reports about turtle-monsters overthrowing civilization? They'd have to investigate that shit or risk looking like morons when the 'invasion' finally happened.

That was just blatant discrimination against other species, in his opinion. _Turtle dies and he can't even fucking __**go**__ anywhere. Figures._

Staring at what he was going to force himself to believe was the most interesting brick wall in existence, Raphael determined that invasion by mutated ninja animals might do the world some good. If there had only been a few more turtles in that jar…

Tch, whatever. He'd do wishful thinking once he figured out what the fuck the holdup was on his afterlife. It wasn't exactly a complicated process or anything: someone dies, they go into the light. Or burn in hell in an eternity of suffering. Or get reincarnated. Or, uh, something. On the contrary, maybe nothing.

But no one ever said anything about standing around sterotypical alleys with nothing to do, nobody to talk to and having nothing to throw. At least the other options had some pretty concrete standards. Nothing more restful or eternally torturous than watching kids lean against the fast-food joint across the street.

What a lucky guy he was. Abso-fucking-lutely lucky. Hey, later that night he could even ninja-ghost his way over there and watch from a better vantage point. Or better yet, he could even fucking pretend to lean _with_ them.

"Endless possibilities," he told himself mockingly. After that, he stared at the wall, swore as loudly as he could and contemplated making another attempt at actually dying.

Raph was about ninety-five percent sure that humans didn't have to put up with this shit.

* * *

After another few minutes of waiting, something inside of his mind snapped and he found himself cussing out the nearest fire escape ladder for not letting him climb it. Yes, it was an inanimate object and yes, it wasn't going to return his hatred or acknowledge him in any way whatsoever. But getting pissed at things was kind of his _job _and he wasn't about to stop just because he couldn't properly hit anything _while_ he was pissed at said things.

Turtles were creatures of _habit, _damn it.

"Stupid motherfucking ladder, like you can't fucking hold one goddamned ghost: don't even fucking _weigh anything _and this piece of shit thinks it's too good for me," he muttered, trying to make the metal fixture melt through the sheer force of his deadliest glare.

It didn't do anything but if that ladder had been a ninja or a Purple Dragon then by God it would've been running in the other direction. Of course, it was neither of those things and the fact that he wasn't having any effect on it whatsoever just pissed him off all the more.

He _really _needed something to punch.

"What, you got nothin' to say for yourself? Not gonna rise to the bait, is that it? Who the fuck do you think you _are_? Lemme tell you something, pal, I ain't gonna stop just because you think you're too fucking good to stoop to my level- I actually got a fucking brain, I can actually talk, what do think about _that? _Huh?" He demanded, heatedly making efforts to jab a finger into one of the bottom rungs. "Mr. High-and-Mighty Ladder, you're not even _alive-_"

Apparently he was farther gone than he'd thought, because the ladder cut him off mid-rant: and it was using Leo's voice. _Raphael, what the hell are you __**doing**__?_

Raph considered getting the fuck out of dodge for the sake of his sanity, but he figured if he'd already gone nuts he might as well use that to his advantage and yell at something that could yell back. "What the hell does it _look_ like I'm doing?" He snarled, gesturing wildly through the wall of the building in his fury.

_You're screaming at a ladder? _Leo's voice answered, carrying an on-the-dot note of inquiry and concern.

Raphael almost physically felt himself bristling. Leave it to a fucking inanimate object to make him sound completely over-the-edge in five words. "Hey, I woulda stopped eventually if it hadn't started talking back."

_The fire escape…is talking to you?_

"Don't act so innocent," the turtle snarled, making a threatening gesture at said fire escape purely on instinct. "You don't get no points for playin' stupid."

_Playing…what are you-?_ There was about a five-second pause. _Wait, you think... __**Oh**__. Uh, I'm not the ladder. It's really Leo._

"Uh-huh. And I'm the fucking Pope."

_Well, we'll discuss how that's going to fit around your patrol schedule later._

Raph heaved a long-suffering sigh and pinched the area between his eyes.

Great. This was just fucking great. The _ladder _thought it was Leo. It was even using his stupid dry humor jokes. So not only was he dead and insane, he also had to deal with the incredible identity-crisis fire escape.

If Mikey were here, he'd be laughing his ass off at his brother's expense.

"I got bigger problems on my hands than whether you're Leo or not, but lemme fill you in anyways: you're not. He's a fucking _turtle, _alright? Turtles don't have handles and they're not screwed to the sides of buildings."

_You're confused. _

Self-righteous ladder bastard. "What makes you think I'M the confused one?"

_You think it's more likely that a ladder- an **inanimate object**, Raph, are you with me- thinks it's me than it is for me to get ahold of you by meditating._

Raph opened his mouth to make some kind of smart-assed response, but decided against it because that actually sounded about right.

He was a fucking _idiot. _An idiot that had willingly argued with a ladder. Never going to live that one down, was he? The disembodied turtle cleared his throat awkwardly, pretty much burnt-out on being pissed off for the moment. "Uh, right," he muttered. There was a moment or two of debating whether or not he really needed to answer out loud, but he figured it would be better if he actually _heard _at least half of his conversation.

_It's not your fault. You've been out of your body for a while, _Leo informed him, intuitive as ever. _Once you're back in, things should settle back down._

"'Back in?' You know somethin' I don't, Leo?"

_Raph, you remember what happened, right? You know what's going on?_

"No," Raphael drawled sarcastically. "I _always_ yell at ladders before I climb 'em- and you know me, just can't resist getting killed on a regular basis."

_Is sarcasm really going to do you any good right now? _He could practically see the annoyed frown on his brother's face. It was the patented 'my brother is a difficult moron' expression.

Raph responded with a defiant snort. "Would you like me to go back to screamin' at the fire escape?"

_Would you like me to tell Mikey that you were doing it? _

Raphael didn't say anything to that, which Leonardo took as a cue to start explaining things. _That's better. First things first, you're not dead. The explosion and the fall just sort of…knocked you around a bit._

Well, that was a good thing to know a few _hours _late. "And I got stuck walking through walls and shit…_why_?"

_You thought you were dead. There isn't much reason to go back to a body that isn't alive._

"What the hell kind of cop-out answer is that? Hanging around Foot Headquarters with Shred-Head isn't exactly a picnic, y'know. You telling me there isn't even a good _reason_ for it?"

_The Shredder? Raph, what on earth were you doing in the Saki building?_

"You tell me! I was mindin' my own business, drowning in that stupid-ass whirlpool or whatever and then there I was! In the fucking SAKI BUILDING!" Leo started to make some kind of response but Raph cut him off as his train of thought made a sudden stop. "You jumped in after me, didn't you?" He asked accusingly.

_That's not really important-_

"You did! You jumped into the fucking whirlpool of death with a gimped-up shoulder! What the fuck were you thinking?"

_What was I **thinking**? I was thinking that I would prefer for my little brother not to **drown**._

"Do you have any idea how dangerous those fucking things are when you're _not_ already hurt? What the hell were Don and Mike gonna do when you got yourself killed because _I_ got killed?" The younger brother ranted, ignoring the homeless man that had wandered into his alley and started watching him with some levels of disinterest in his expression. "The whole point of pushing _your _incompetent ass outta the way was for you not to do something stupid! It was bad enough that _I_ was that dumb!"

_If it had been any of us in your place, you would have been the first one in after them- don't lecture me about something that you'd do yourself._

"I'm not lecturing, I'm being realistic!" Raph exploded. "And the second I'm back I'm kicking your ass for not thinking straight!"

_And how well is that going to go with a broken leg and a concussion?_

Raphael crossed his arms and glared at the ground in lieu of not being able to see his older brother. "You jumped in, too: my beat-up ass'll kick the _shit_ outta your beat-up ass," he grumbled half-heartedly.

The homeless man took this as a personal threat. Jumping to his feet, he cried: "you'll have to catch me first!" And with that, he took off running.

Raph ignored him.

_The debris from the explosion blocked the current. You…you were the only one that got significantly hurt. So no, your 'beat-up ass' won't be kicking anybody else's. Not for a while._

If it weren't for the fact that he knew Leo would probably kick his own ass in training, he might have put up more of a fight. Besides, even in his head he could hear the classic notes of Leonardo in full guilt-trip mode. He probably felt like shit over this whole stupid thing, so Raph let it go for the moment.

If he still wanted to beat someone up when he was allowed back into the dojo, he would just take care of it then.

"Fine. Whatever. You gonna meditate me back over there or what?"

_Fine, but this discussion is far from over. Relax a bit._ Raphael mumbled a few complaints but did his best to comply with the request. When he actually tried, it wasn't all that hard to feel Leo rooting around in his head. On any other occasion he probably would've noticed it right away.

Stupid fucking disembodiment, screwing around with his perception.

_Good. Are you ready?_

"Just fucking do it, will ya?" Raph snapped, patience crumbling at the edges like spun sugar in careless fingers. "I'd like to get around to explaining this shit before I really _do _die."

Leo hesitated for a second. _You scared us, you know. Don actually had to sedate Casey to keep him from making a one-man march on the Foot and I don't think **anyone's** been sleeping._

Stupid guilt. Couldn't so much as stub his toe without feeling like an asshole.

"Didn't exactly plan on that, you know." If his brother wanted anything closer to an apology than _that_, he'd be waiting for a long fucking time.

_I know. Just…try not to do something like this again, will you?_

"No promises."

_No, of course not. I suppose I should just be happy you didn't say no. Okay, work with me here._

Raph relaxed as much as he could, sitting on the ground with a slight huff and closing his eyes. Getting put back in his body felt like being pulled by a million thin strings attached to his skin, which was kind of strange because waking up was usually a lot more painful than-

_HOLY SHIT, I SHOULD HAVE JUST STAYED DISEMBODIED._

-and there it was: the hit-by-a-truck-and-then-thrown-off-a-cliff feeling that always accompanied a return to consciousness.

He decided that that was the last time he would be saving any of his brothers' asses. But he also knew that he didn't really mean it.

Which just pissed him off more.

* * *

_See? See what happens?_


End file.
